MADRID.
Bull-fights--The Arena--Calesins--Espadas, Chulos, Banderilleros,
and Picadores Sevilla the Picador--La Estocada a Vuela Pies.
We were obliged to wait two days. Never did two days appear so long
to me, and in order to overcome my impatience, I read over more
than ten times the bills posted up at the corners of the principal
streets. These bills promised wonders; they announced eight bulls
from the most famous pasturages; the _picadores_, Sevilla and
Antonio Rodriguez; and the _espadas_, Juan Pastor, also called _El
Barbero_, and Guillen; they wound up by prohibiting the public from
throwing into the arena orange-peel or any other projectile capable
of injuring the combatants.
The word _matador_ is scarcely ever employed in Spain to designate
the person who kills the bull; he is entitled _espada_ (sword),
which is more noble and more characteristic. Neither is the word
_toreador_ used, but _torero_. I just mention this as a piece
of useful information for those authors who are accustomed to
introduce a little local colouring into their ballads and comic
operas. The fight is called _media corrida_, half-course or fight,
because formerly there used to be two every Monday, one in the
morning and one at five in the afternoon, the two together making
up the day's amusement. At present only the fight in the afternoon
is preserved.
It has been asserted and reasserted on all sides, that the
Spaniards are losing their taste for bull-fights, and that
civilization will soon cause the amusement to be discontinued
altogether. If civilization does effect this, all I can say is that
it will be all the worse for civilization, as a bull-fight is one
of the grandest sights that the imagination of man can conceive;
but, at any rate, the time for their abolition has not yet arrived,
and those sensitive writers who affirm the contrary have only
to transport themselves some Monday, between the hours of four
and five, to the Puerta d'Alcala, in order to be convinced that
the taste for this _ferocious_ pastime is, as yet, very far from
extinct.
Monday, which is the bull-day, _dia de toros_, is a holiday. No one
does any work, and the whole town is in commotion. Those persons
who have not previously bought their tickets, hasten off towards
the _Calle de Carretas_, where the ticket-office is situated, in
the hope of finding some place still vacant, for the enormous
amphitheatre is all numbered and portioned into stalls, a plan
which cannot be praised too highly, and which might be imitated
with advantage in the French theatres. The _Calle d'Alcala_, the
artery into which all the populous streets of the city flow, is
filled with foot-passengers, horse-men, and vehicles. To grace this
solemnity, the most strange and extravagant _calesins_ and cars
emerge from their dusty retreats, while the most fantastic horses,
and the most phenomenal mules come forth into the light of day. The
_calesins_ reminded me of the Neapolitan corricoli. They have large
red wheels and no springs, the body being decorated with paintings
more or less allegorical, and lined with old damask silk or faded
serge with long silk fringe. Altogether, they produce a most absurd
_rococo_ effect. The driver sits upon the shaft; this enables
him to harangue and belabour his mule just as he thinks fit, and
also makes one place more for his customers. The mule is tricked
out with as many feathers, rosettes, tufts, bells, and as much
fringe as it is possible to fasten to the harness of any quadruped
in existence. A _calesin_ generally contains a _manola_, and a
female friend as well as her _manolo_, not to mention a bunch of
_muchachos_ hanging on behind. All this flies along with the speed
of lightning in the midst of a whirlwind of cries and dust. There
are also carriages with four or five mules. Nothing equal to them
can be found now-a-days, anywhere save in the pictures of Van der
Meulen, which represent the conquests and hunting exploits of Louis
XIV.
Every vehicle in the town is laid under contribution, for it is
accounted the height of fashion by the _manolas_, who are the
grisettes of Madrid, to proceed in a _calesin_ to the _Plaza de
Toros_: they pawn even their mattresses to obtain money on the
day of a bull-fight, and without being exactly virtuous the rest
of the week, they are most decidedly much less so on Sunday and
Monday. You also see country people who have come to town on
horseback, with their carbine suspended at the bow of their saddle;
others, again, either alone or with their wives, are mounted on
asses. Besides all these persons, there are the carriages of
the fashionable world, and a whole host of honest citizens and
señoras in mantles on foot, who quicken their pace on perceiving
the mounted National Guard, headed by their trumpeters, advancing
to clear the arena. For nothing in the world would any one miss
seeing the clearing of the arena, and the precipitate flight of the
alguazil after he has thrown to the helper the key of the _toril_,
where the horned gladiators are confined. The _toril_ is situated
opposite the _matadero_, in which place they flay the animals
that have been killed. The bulls are driven, the night before the
fight, to a meadow called _el arroyo_, near Madrid. This meadow
is a favourite walk with the _aficionados_; but it is one, by the
way, not wholly free from danger, for the bulls are at liberty,
and their drivers find it rather a difficult task to keep them in
order. Lastly, the bulls are conducted into the _encierro_ (stable
attached to the circus) by the aid of old bulls used to the office,
and scattered among the herd of their wild brethren.
The _Plaza de Toros_ is situated on the left-hand side of the road,
beyond the Puerta d'Alcala (which, I may mention in a parenthesis,
is a fine structure, resembling a triumphal arch, with trophies and
other heroic ornaments); it is an enormous circus, with whitewashed
walls, presenting no remarkable feature on the outside. As all
the tickets are taken beforehand, the audience enter without the
least confusion, and every one clambers to his place, and sits down
according to the particular number of his ticket.
The interior is arranged in the following manner:--Around the
arena, which is of truly Roman grandeur, runs a circular barrier of
planks, six feet high, painted a bright red, and furnished on each
side, at about two feet from the ground, with a wooden ledge, on
which the _chulos_ and _banderilleros_ put one foot, in order to
jump over to the other side when they are followed too closely by
the bull. This barrier is called _las tablas_. It has four doors,
for the entrance of the officials and the bulls, as well as for
carrying off the bodies, &c. Beyond this barrier there is another,
rather higher. The space between the two forms a kind of corridor,
where the _chulos_ rest themselves when they are fatigued; it is
likewise the station of the picador _sobresaliente_ (substitute),
whose duty it is always to hold himself in readiness, fully dressed
and equipped, in case the chief _picador_ should be killed or
wounded; and also of the _cachetero_ and a few _aficionados_, who,
by dint of perseverance, succeed, despite the rules, in smuggling
themselves into this blest place, admittance into which is as much
sought after in Spain as is the privilege of going behind the
scenes of the opera at Paris.
As it frequently happens that the bull, when exasperated, clears
the first barrier, the second is surmounted by a network of ropes
to prevent his leaping further; and a number of carpenters with
axes and hammers are always at hand to repair any damage done to
the enclosure, so that accidents are almost impossible. However,
bulls _de muchas piernas_ (of much legs), as they are technically
called, have been known to clear the second barrier. We have an
instance of this in an engraving of the _Tauromaquia_ of Goya, the
celebrated author of the "Caprices," representing the death of the
alcade of Torrezon, who was miserably gored by one of these leaping
gentry.
The seats destined for the use of the public are situated
immediately beyond the second barrier. Those near the ropes are
called _plazas de barrera_, those in the middle _tendidos_,
while those next to the first tier of the _grada cubierta_ are
distinguished by the appellation of _tabloncillos_. All these
rows, which remind you of the seats in the Roman amphitheatres,
are composed of bluish granite, and have no covering but the
canopy of heaven. Immediately behind them are the covered places,
_gradas cubiertas_, which are divided into _delantera_, first
seats; _centro_, middle seats; and _tabloncillo_, seats with
backs. Above these are the boxes, called _palcos_ and _palcos por
asientos_. They are a hundred and twenty in number, very spacious,
and capable of containing twenty persons each. The difference
between the _palco por asientos_ and the simple _palco_ is, that in
the former you can take a single place as you can a balcony-stall
at the opera. The boxes of the _Reina Gobernadora y de la
Innocente Isabel_ are decorated with silk hangings and closed by
curtains. Next to them is the box of the _ayuntamiento_ (municipal
authorities), who preside over the sports, and whose duty it is to
settle any dispute that may arise.
The circus, thus arranged, contains twelve thousand spectators,
all seated at their ease, and enjoying a clear view of everything
going forward,--a most indispensable condition in an amusement that
is purely ocular. The immense building is always full; and those
who are unable to procure _plazas de sombra_ (places in the shade)
prefer being broiled alive in the uncovered seats, to missing one
fight. It is considered as indispensable by those persons who pride
themselves on their gentility to have a box at the bull-fights in
Madrid, as it is by Parisians of fashion to possess one at the
Italian Opera.
On issuing from the outward corridor to proceed to my place, I was
seized with a sort of sudden giddiness. The circus was bathed in
torrents of light, for the sun is a chandelier of a very superior
description, which possesses the advantage of not spilling the
oil upon those beneath, and which not even gas will supersede for
some time to come. An immense humming floated like a fog of noise
over the arena. On the sunny side of the building palpitated and
glistened thousands of fans and little round parasols with handles
made of reed. They looked like flocks of birds, of ever-varying
hues attempting to fly. There was not one place empty. I can
assure the reader that it is in itself a grand sight to see twelve
thousand people assembled in a theatre of such a size, that heaven
alone is capable of painting the ceiling with the blue which it
procures from the palette of eternity.
A detachment of the cavalry of the National Guard, exceedingly
well mounted and equipped, now rode round the arena, preceded
by two alguazils in their costume, which consists of a large
broad-brimmed hat and feather, in the style of Henri IV., black
doublet and cloak, and large boots. Their duty was to drive away
some few obstinate _aficionados_ and certain dogs that were still
loitering in the ring. As soon as this was effected, the alguazils
went and fetched the _toreros_, under which term are included
the _picadores_, _chulos_, _banderilleros_, and the _espada_,
who is the principal performer in the drama. These personages
made their entry to a flourish of trumpets. The _picadores_ were
mounted on horses with their eyes hooded, as the sight of the bull
might frighten them and cause them to shy, thereby endangering
the safety of their riders. The costume of the _picadores_ is
highly picturesque. It is composed of a short vest, which does not
button, of orange, carnation, green or blue velvet, loaded with
gold or silver embroidery and spangles, fringe, filigree buttons
and ornaments of all kinds, especially on the shoulders, where the
stuff is completely hidden beneath a glittering and phosphorescent
mass of twisted arabesque-work. Under this is a waistcoat in the
same style, a frilled shirt, a variegated neck-handkerchief tied
carelessly round the neck, and a silk sash round the waist. Their
pantaloons are of fawn-coloured buff, stuffed inside and lined
with thin metal plates, like the boots of the French postilions,
in order to protect the wearers' legs from being gored by the
bull. A grey, low-crowned hat (_sombrero_), with an immense brim,
and ornamented with an enormous tuft of favours, and a large mesh
or net of black ribbons, which is called, I believe, a _moño_,
and holds the hair gathered up in a pigtail at the back of the
head, complete the dress. The _picador_ is armed with a lance, at
the end of which is an iron spike two or three inches long. This
spike cannot wound the bull dangerously, but is enough to irritate
or keep him at bay. A piece of leather fitted to the _picador's_
hand, prevents the lance from slipping. The saddle rises very high,
both behind and before, and resembles those strengthened with iron
plates, in which the knights of the Middle Ages used to be buried
in the tournaments. The stirrups are made of wood, and form a kind
of shoe, like the Turkish stirrups. A long, iron spur, as sharp as
a dagger, is fixed in the rider's heel. An ordinary spur would not
be sufficient to govern the horses, who are often half dead.
The _chulos_ present a very nimble and natty appearance with
their breeches of green, blue, or rose-coloured satin, their
jacket ornamented with various patterns and flowers, their tight
girdle, and their little _montera_ cocked knowingly on one ear. On
their arm they carry a piece of cloth (_capa_), which they unroll
and agitate before the bull's eyes for the purpose of exciting,
dazzling, and deceiving him. They are all young men, well built,
spare and slim, differing in this respect from the _picadores_,
who are, in general, remarkable for their height and athletic
proportions; the _picadores_ require strength, and the _chulos_
agility.
The _banderilleros_ wear the same costume as the _chulos_. It is
their especial duty to plant a kind of dart, tipped with an iron
barb and ornamented with pieces of paper, in the bull's shoulder.
These darts are called _banderillas_, and are employed to revive
the animal's fury and lash him up to the pitch of exasperation
necessary to make him present a fair aim to the sword of the
_matador_. The _banderillero_ has to plant two _banderillas_ at a
time; in order to do this, he must pass his two arms between the
bull's horns, a delicate kind of operation, in performing which it
might, perhaps, be rather dangerous for a person to be thinking of
anything else.
The _espada_ differs from the _banderilleros_ only by the fact
of his having a richer and more highly ornamented costume, which
is sometimes of purple silk, a colour particularly offensive to
the bull. His weapons consist of a long sword, with a handle in
the shape of a cross, and a piece of scarlet cloth stretched on a
long stick; the technical term for this kind of waving shield, is
_muleta_. The reader is, at present, acquainted with the theatre
and the actors. I will now show the latter enacting their various
parts.
The _picadores_, escorted by the _chulos_, first go up and bow
to the box of the _ayuntamiento_, whence the keys of the _toril_
are thrown out to them. These are picked up and delivered to the
alguazil, who gives them to the groom of the ring, and then gallops
off as hard as he can, pursued by the shouts and cries of the
crowd; for the alguazils, as well as all the other representatives
of justice, are not much more popular in Spain than the gendarmes
and sergents-de-ville are in France. Meanwhile, the two _picadores_
take up their position to the left of the door of the _toril_,
which is situated directly opposite the royal box, because the
bull's entry is one of the most interesting parts of the fight.
The _picadores_ are stationed at a very little distance from each
other, with their backs to the _tablas_, firmly seated in their
saddles, holding their lances couched, and valiantly prepared
to receive the beast. The _chulos_ and _banderilleros_ station
themselves at some distance off, or disperse themselves over the
arena.
All these preparations, which appear longer in description than
they are in reality, excite the curiosity of the public to the
highest pitch. Every person looks anxiously at the fatal door, and
out of the twelve thousand spectators present, not one takes his
eyes off it. At this moment, the loveliest woman in the world might
beg in vain for a single glance.
For my own part, I frankly confess that I felt as oppressed as if
my heart had been clutched by some invisible hand. I experienced a
strange buzzing in my ears, and the perspiration, alternately hot
and cold, ran down my back. I never felt more excited in my life.
A shrill flourish of trumpets was now heard; the red folding-doors
were thrown wide open with a loud noise, and the bull rushed into
the arena, in the midst of an immense hurrah.
He was a superb animal, with a glossy coat, almost black, an
enormous dewlap, a square muzzle, sharp, polished, curving horns,
clean-made legs, and a tail that was always in motion. Between
his shoulders he had a bunch of ribbons, fastened by a large pin,
and representing the colours of his _ganaderia_. Dazzled by the
light of day, and astonished at the tumult, he stopped short for a
second, and snuffed the air twice or thrice; then, perceiving the
nearest _picador_, he made a furious bound, and tore towards him at
full gallop.
The _picador_ who was thus singled out was Sevilla. I cannot
refrain from taking this opportunity to describe this famous
Sevilla, who is really the beau-ideal of his class. Imagine a man
of about thirty years of age, of a noble expression and demeanour;
as robust as Hercules, as bronzed as a mulatto, with superb
eyes, and a physiognomy like that of one of Titian's Cæsars. The
expression of jovial, contemptuous serenity in his features and
bearing, had really something heroic about it. On this occasion
he was dressed in an orange-coloured jacket, embroidered and
laced with silver; the remembrance of this jacket has ever since
remained, even in its minutest details indelibly fixed on my mind.
He lowered his lance, and, couching it, sustained the shock of the
bull so victoriously, that the savage animal staggered and passed
by him, bearing away with him a wound which, ere long, streaked
his black coat with red. He stopped, as if uncertain what to do,
for a few seconds, and then, with redoubled fury, rushed at the
second _picador_, who was stationed at a little distance further on.
[Illustration: SEVILLA THE PICADOR.]
Antonio Rodriguez gave him a tremendous thrust with his lance, and
inflicted a second wound just beside the first, for it is only
allowable to hit the bull in the shoulder. But he again rushed
towards Rodriguez with his head near the ground, and plunged his
horn right into the horse's belly. The _chulos_ ran up, waving
their pieces of cloth, and the stupid animal, attracted and
diverted by this fresh object, turned round and pursued them at
full speed; but the _chulos_, placing one foot on the ledge we have
already described, leaped lightly over the barrier, leaving him
very much astonished at no longer seeing any one.
The horn had completely ripped up the horse's belly, so that his
entrails came through, and almost touched the ground. I thought
that the _picador_ would retire and procure another steed; this
was, however, far from being the case; he touched his ear, to see
whether or not the wound was mortal. The horse was only unseamed;
although his wound was most horrible to behold, it could be healed.
The entrails are replaced in his belly, a needle and thread are
passed through the skin, and the poor creature is still capable of
being used again. Rodriguez gave him the spur, and cantered up to
take another position at a little distance off.
It now seemed to strike the bull that all he should get from the
_picadores_ were hard thrusts, and he began to feel a desire
to return to his pasture. Instead of _entering_ again without
hesitation, after making a few bounds, he returned, with the most
dogged resolution, to his _querencia_; the _querencia_ is the
technical term for some corner or other that the bull chooses for
a resting-place, and to which he always retires after having made
the _cogida_. This word is employed to designate the attack of the
bull, while _la suerte_ is used in speaking of the _torrero_, who
is likewise named _diestro_.
A swarm of _chulos_ ran up and waved their bright-coloured _capas_
before the bull's eyes; one of them was even insolent enough to
wrap his cloak, that was rolled up, round the animal's head, making
him look exactly like the sign of the _Bœuf à la mode_, which most
people have seen at Paris. The bull was furious, and got rid, in
the best way he could, of this ill-timed ornament, throwing the
innocent piece of stuff into the air, and trampling on it with
great rage when it fell on the ground. Taking advantage of this
new access of fury, a _chulo_ began irritating him, and drew him
towards the _picadores_. On finding himself face to face with his
foes, the bull hesitated, and then, making up his mind, rushed at
Sevilla with such force that the horse fell with his four feet in
the air, for Sevilla's arm is a buttress that nothing can bend.
Sevilla fell under the horse, which is the best manner of falling,
because the rider is then protected from the bull's horns, the body
of his steed serving him as a shield. The _chulos_ came up, and the
horse got off with only a gash in his thigh. They raised Sevilla,
who clambered into his saddle again with the greatest coolness
imaginable. The horse of Antonio Rodriguez, the other _picador_,
was less fortunate; he received so severe a thrust in the breast
that the bull's horn entered up to the root, and disappeared
entirely in the wound. While the bull was endeavouring to free his
head from the body of the horse, Antonio clung to the edge of the
_tablas_, which he cleared, thanks to the _chulos_, for when a
picador is thrown, he is so weighed down by the iron lining of his
boots that he finds it as difficult to move as did the knights of
old when encased in their armour.
The poor horse, left to himself, crossed the arena, staggering as
if he had been drunk, and entangling his feet in his entrails. A
flood of black blood gushed impetuously from his wound, marking
the sand with intermittent zigzag lines, which attested the
unequalness of his course. At length he fell near the _tablas_.
Two or three times he raised his head and rolled his blue eyes,
that were already glazed, drawing back his lips, white with foam,
and exposing his fleshless teeth. He struck the ground feebly with
his tail, while his hind legs moved convulsively and kicked out
for the last time, as if he wished to break the thick skull of
Death with his hard hoof. He was hardly dead when the _muchachos_
on service, seeing that the bull was engaged somewhere else, ran
up and took off his saddle and bridle. He remained thus, lying on
his flank, like some dark outline upon the sand. He was so slight,
so flat, that he might have been mistaken for a profile cut out of
black paper. I had already remarked, at Montfaucon, what strangely
fantastic forms horses assume after death. Of all animals there are
certainly none whose dead bodies are so melancholy to look at as
that of a horse. His head, that is so noble and pure in form, is
so modelled and flattened by the terrible hand of Nothingness that
it seems as if it had been inhabited by a human mind; while his
dishevelled mane and streaming tail have something picturesque and
poetical about them. A dead horse is a corpse; every other animal
that has once ceased to live is nothing more nor less than carrion.
I dwell thus upon the death of this horse, because it excited in
me a more distressing feeling than anything else I ever saw at
a bull-fight. But this horse was not the only victim that day.
Fourteen others were stretched dead in the arena, one bull alone
killing five.
The _picador_ returned on a fresh horse, and a number of attacks,
more or less successful, then ensued. But the bull was beginning
to be tired, and his fury to abate, whereupon the _banderilleros_
advanced with their darts, furnished with little pieces of paper,
and in a short time the bull's neck was ornamented with a collar
of pennons, which all his efforts to shake off only fixed more
firmly. A little _banderillero_ of the name of _Majaron_ was
particularly bold and successful in discharging his darts, and
sometimes he would even cut an _entrechat_ before retiring: as a
natural consequence, he was greatly applauded. When the bull had
seven or eight _banderillas_ fluttering about him, and felt his
skin pierced by their darts, and heard the rustling of their paper
pennons in his ears, he began to run about in all directions, and
bellow in the most horrible manner. His black muzzle became white
with foam, and, in his blind fury, he butted so violently against
one of the doors, that he broke it off its hinges. The carpenters,
who were closely watching his movements, immediately replaced it,
while a _chulo_ enticed him in another direction; but was pursued
so closely, that he had scarcely time to clear the barrier. The
bull, exasperated and lashed to the highest pitch of fury, made
one prodigious effort and followed him over the _tablas_. All the
persons in the intermediate space jumped with marvellous rapidity
into the arena, while the bull, receiving on his passage a shower
of blows from the sticks and hats of the first row of spectators,
re-entered by another door.
The _picadores_ now retired, leaving a free field to the _espada_,
Juan Pastor, who proceeded to salute the box of the ayuntamiento,
and requested permission to kill the bull. As soon as this was
granted, he threw his _montera_ into the air, as much as to say
that he was about to stake everything upon a single cast, and then
walked up to the bull with a deliberate step, concealing his sword
under the red folds of his _muleta_.
The _espada_ now waved his piece of scarlet cloth several times,
and the bull rushed blindly at it. By a mere movement of his body,
the _espada_ avoided the animal's attack. The latter soon returned,
however, butting furiously at the light cloth, which he pushed on
one side, without being able to pierce it. The favourable instant
was come: the _espada_ placed himself exactly opposite the bull,
waving his _muleta_ with his left hand, and holding his sword
horizontally, with the point on a level with the animal's horns. It
is difficult to convey by words an idea of the fearful curiosity,
the frantic attention produced by this situation, which is worth
all the plays Shakspeare ever wrote. A few seconds more, and one
of the two actors will be killed! Which will it be, the man or the
bull? There they stand, face to face; the man has no defensive
weapon of any kind, he is dressed as if he were going to a ball, in
pumps and silk stockings. A woman's pin would pierce through his
satin jacket; a mere rag and a slight sword are all that he has to
save his life. In this fight all the material advantages belong to
the bull, who possesses two terrible horns as sharp as daggers,
immense force, and that animal fury which is not conscious of
danger. But then, on the other hand, the man has his sword and his
courage; the eyes of twelve thousand spectators are fixed upon him,
and in a few moments, young and beautiful women will applaud him
with their delicate white hands.
The _muleta_ was suddenly thrown on one side, leaving the
_matador's_ body exposed to view; the bull's horns were not an inch
from his breast; I thought he was lost. A silvery flash passed with
the rapidity of lightning between the two crescents, and the bull
fell upon his knees with a roar of pain. He had got the hilt of
the sword between his shoulders, just as the stag of Saint Hubert
is represented in Albert Dürer's marvellous engraving, bearing a
crucifix in the midst of his branching antlers.
Thunders of applause burst forth from all parts of the
amphitheatre; the _palcos_ of the nobility, the _gradas cubiertas_
of the middle classes, the _tendidos_ of the _manolos_ and
_manolas_ cried and shouted with all the ardour and petulance which
distinguish the natives of southern climes, "_Bueno! Bueno! Viva el
Barbero! Viva!!!_"
The blow which the _espada_ had just given is held in high
estimation, and called _la estocada a vuela pies_; the bull dies
without losing one drop of blood, which is accounted the height
of elegance, and by falling on his knees, seems to acknowledge
his adversary's superiority. The _aficionados_ (dilettanti) say
that the inventor of this blow was Joaquin Rodriguez, a celebrated
_torrero_ of the last century.
When the bull does not die immediately, a mysterious little
being, dressed in black, and who has hitherto taken no part in
the proceedings, is seen to jump over the barrier. This is the
_cachetero_. He advances with a stealthy step, looks at the bull
in his death-struggle, to see whether he is capable of getting
up again, which is sometimes the case, and, coming behind him,
traitorously plunges a cylindrical dagger, shaped at its extremity
like a lancet, into his neck; this cuts the spinal marrow, and
produces instantaneous death. The best spot is behind the head,
some inches from an imaginary straight line drawn from horn to horn.
The military band proclaimed the bull's death, one of the doors
was thrown open, and four mules, magnificently caparisoned with
feathers, bells, woollen tufts, and little flags, yellow and red,
the Spanish national colours, entered the arena. These mules bear
off the dead bodies, which are attached to a rope, furnished at the
end with a large hook. The horses were taken away first, and then
the bull. These four splendid and spirited animals, who dragged
along the sand, with frantic velocity, all the dead bodies which,
but a short time before, were themselves so active, had a strange,
savage look, which made you forget, in some degree, the mournful
duty they had to perform. When they had left, a groom came with a
basketful of earth, which he spread over the pools of blood, which
might otherwise cause the _torreros_ to slip. The _picadores_
resumed their places near the door, the orchestra sounded a
flourish, and another bull rushed into the arena, for no time is
allowed to elapse between the acts of this drama; nothing stops it,
not even the death of a _torrero_. As we have already mentioned,
the _doubles_ are waiting, ready dressed and armed, in case of
accidents. It is not our intention to give a separate account of
the deaths of eight different bulls who were sacrificed that day;
we will merely mention certain variations and remarkable incidents.
The bulls are not always very savage; some are even very gentle,
and would only be too happy to lie down quietly in the shade.
It is easy to perceive, by their good-natured honest look, that
they prefer their pastures to the circus. They turn their backs
on the _picadores_, and, in the most phlegmatic manner, allow the
_chulos_ to wave their many-coloured cloaks under their very nose.
Not even the _banderillas_ can rouse them from their apathetic
condition. In cases like these, it is necessary to have recourse
to more violent expedients; such, for example, as the _banderillas
de fuego_. These are slight sticks, with fireworks attached, which
go off some minutes after they are planted in the shoulders of the
_toro cobarde_ (coward) and explode with a shower of sparks and
detonations. By this ingenious contrivance, the bull is goaded,
burnt, and stunned simultaneously; were he the most _aplomado_
(leaden) of bulls, he cannot possibly avoid becoming furious. He
indulges in a succession of extravagant capers, of which no one
would ever suppose so heavy an animal capable; he bellows, foams,
and twists himself about in every direction, to escape from the
disagreeable proximity of the fireworks, which are burning his ears
and scorching his hide.
The _banderillas de fuego_, however, are never used but at the
last extremity; the fight is considered, as it were, disgraced
when it is necessary to have recourse to them; but if the alcade
is too long before waving his handkerchief as a sign that he
allows them to be employed, the public create such a horrible
disturbance that he is obliged to yield. The most extraordinary
vociferations, howling, shouting, and stamping of feet, break out
on all sides. Some holla "_Banderillas de fuego!_" while others
exclaim, "_Perros! perros!_" (The dogs!) The bull is overwhelmed
with abuse; he is called a scoundrel, an assassin, a thief; the
spectators offer him a place in the shade, and indulge in all
sorts of pleasantry, which is frequently very witty. In a short
time a chorus of sticks is added to the vociferations, if the
latter do not produce the desired effect. The flooring of the
_palcos_ creaks and gapes, and the painting on the ceilings falls
in small whitish pellicles, like so much snow mixed with dust.
The public becomes exasperated to the highest pitch. "_Fuego al
alcade! perros el alcade!_" (Burn the alcade! to the dogs with
him!) shout the incensed multitude, shaking their fists at the box
of the _ayuntamiento_. At last, the much desired permission is
granted, and everything becomes quiet again. During these kinds of
_jawing-matches_--excuse the term, but I cannot find a better--you
often hear some very humorous remarks. I will instance one that is
very concise and very cutting. A _picador_, magnificently dressed
in a completely new suit, was showing off on his horse without
taking any part in the proceedings, and remaining in a part of the
circus where there was no danger. "_Pintura! pintura!_" hollaed
the spectators to him, clearly perceiving the motives of his
conduct.
Very frequently the bull is so cowardly that even the _banderillas
de fuego_ are insufficient. He returns to his _querenzia_, and will
not _enter_. The cries of "_Perros! perros!_" then recommence. On
a sign from the alcade, the canine gentlemen are introduced. They
are admirable animals, of the purest breed and most extraordinary
beauty. They go straight up to the bull. The latter tosses about
half-a-dozen in the air, but that does not prevent one or two of
the strongest and most courageous from at length succeeding in
catching hold of his ear. When they have once fastened on it they
are like leeches; they might be turned inside out before they
would let go. The bull shakes his head--dashes them against the
barrier--but it is of no avail. When this has lasted for some time,
the _espada_, or the _cachetero_, plunges a sword into the side of
the victim, who bends his knees and falls on the ground, where he
is despatched. Sometimes they employ a kind of instrument called
a _media-luna_, (half-moon), with which they hamstring him, and
render him incapable of offering any resistance: in this case it
is no longer a combat, but a disgusting butchery. It frequently
happens that a _matador_ fails; his sword meets with a bone and
springs back, or else it enters the throat and causes the bull to
vomit blood in large quantities; this is a serious fault according
to the laws of _Tauromaquia_. If the animal is not despatched at
the second blow, the _espada_ is overwhelmed with hisses and abuse;
for the Spanish public is impartial: it applauds both bull and man
in exact proportion to their respective merits. If the bull rips up
a horse and over-throws the rider, it shouts "_Bravo, toro!_" if
the man wounds the bull, "_Bravo, torrero!_" but it will not suffer
cowardice either in man or beast. A poor devil who was afraid
to go and fix his _banderillas_ in an extremely ferocious bull,
occasioned such a tumult, that the alcade, in order to restore
order, promised to have him sent to prison.
During this very fight, Sevilla, who is an admirable horseman,
was greatly applauded for the following feat:--An extraordinarily
strong bull caught his horse under the belly, and, tossing up
its head, lifted it completely off the ground. In this perilous
situation, Sevilla did not so much as move in his saddle, but kept
both stirrups, and held his horse so well in hand that it came down
again upon its four feet.
The day's entertainment had been good. Eight bulls and fourteen
horses killed, and a _chulo_ slightly wounded: what could any
one desire more? Each bull-fight must bring in about twenty or
twenty-five thousand francs,[5] which are given by the queen to the
principal hospital, where the wounded _torreros_ are treated with
every possible attention. A priest and a surgeon are always waiting
in a room at the _Plaza de Toros_, ready to administer spiritual
or corporal assistance as the case may be. Formerly, and I believe
it is the case at present as well, a mass used to be said for the
combatants during the fight. You see that nothing is neglected,
and that the impressarios take every precaution. As soon as the
last bull is killed, every one leaps into the arena, and discusses
on the way home the merit of the different _suertes_ or _cogidas_
which have struck him as most worthy of notice. And what, you will
ask, are the women like? for that is the first question put to a
traveller. I own, frankly, that I have not the slightest idea. I
have a vague notion that there were some very pretty ones near me,
but I will not positively assert the fact.
Let us proceed to the Prado, in order to clear up this important
point.